On Our Mating Day, He Claimed the Rogue

The guards dragged me down winding stone steps, their grip bruising on my arms—Cleo's arms. My mind still reeled from the ceremony, from the mark on her neck, from the way Axel had looked through me as if I were nothing.

"Get in there, rogue," one snarled, shoving me into a cell lined with silver. The metal burned against my skin as I stumbled forward, catching myself against the cold wall.

The door clanged shut with finality. I sank to the floor, my legs no longer able to support me. The silver bars prevented any escape attempt—not that I had one. Not yet.

Hours passed in darkness broken only by dim torchlight. I paced the small space, testing the silver's strength, searching for weaknesses. There were none.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor—two sets, uneven and heavy. Drunk guards coming to taunt me? I braced myself against the wall.

"The celebration's still going strong," a slurred voice announced as two figures appeared before my cell. Beta Marcus and Gamma Ryan, their faces flushed with alcohol, eyes glassy.

"Shouldn't you two be at the mating feast?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart.

Ryan belched loudly. "Needed a break from all that...formality." He peered at me through the bars. "You know, Cleo, you almost pulled it off."

My breath caught. They thought I was Cleo.

"What do you mean?" I ventured cautiously.

"The ceremony!" Ryan laughed, swaying slightly. "For a moment there, I thought you were actually going to ruin everything. But Axel handled it perfectly."

Marcus nodded solemnly, though his eyes betrayed his intoxication. "Ten years of secrecy almost blown in one night. That was close."

"Ten years?" I repeated, my voice barely audible.

"Oh, come on," Ryan snorted. "Like you don't know. Axel's been sleeping with you since we were sixteen. Even during the week of his parents' funeral."

The world tilted beneath me. Ten years. Not just recently. Not just a mistake.

"Cleo's been pulling strings for years," Marcus added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Those defense reductions that allowed rogues to breach our borders? Her idea."

My blood ran cold. The rogue attack that killed Axel's parents...

"You should see your face right now," Ryan chuckled. "Priceless."

Before I could respond, the corridor filled with a commanding presence. Axel strode toward us, his Alpha aura pulsing with anger.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, eyes narrowing at his Beta and Gamma.

"Just checking on our...prisoner," Marcus stammered, suddenly sobering.

Axel dismissed them with a wave. "Leave us."

Alone with him, I straightened my spine. No more pretending.

"Hello, Axel," I said, using Cleo's voice but my own inflection.

His eyes widened slightly. "Cleo?"

"No," I replied coldly. "It's Ella."

I stepped closer to the bars. "Remember when I was twelve and you told me I was special because I could sense lies through scent changes? Or how about your hidden journal in the hollow oak tree behind the pack house? The one where you wrote about your 'dark desires'?"

His face paled. "How could you possibly know—"

"The Bloodstone Pendant wasn't yours to give," I continued. "It was Cleo's. She stole it to trigger this curse, didn't she? And now you're going to let her wear my face while I rot in here."

Something shifted in his expression—shock giving way to calculation. A slow, terrible smile spread across his lips.

"You're right," he said softly. "This isn't ideal. But perhaps it could work to our advantage."

"What?"

"Cleo gets the position she deserves. You remain...hidden. And I get the best of both worlds." His eyes gleamed with twisted logic. "No one needs to know."

---

Hours later, I found myself in a different prison—the Pack House's Isolation Wing. No silver this time, just soundproofed luxury designed to contain dangerous wolves.

"Your new accommodations," Axel announced, his voice devoid of remorse. "You'll remain here until we figure out how to handle this situation."

The room was opulent—silk sheets, plush carpet, even a small library. But the door locked from the outside, and the windows were sealed.

As Axel left, I explored my gilded cage. Behind a false panel in the closet, I discovered a shrine—photos of myself with my eyes violently scratched out, locks of Axel's hair arranged in patterns, vials of what appeared to be blood.

Cleo's shrine. To me. To replacing me.

A chill ran down my spine as I realized where I was—directly below the Alpha suite.

That night, I lay awake on the silk bed, staring at the ceiling. Through the thin ventilation system, sounds drifted down—soft moans, whispered endearments, the rhythmic creaking of a bed.

Axel and Cleo—in my body—celebrating their union.

I pressed my hands against my ears, but it wasn't enough. Each sound was a knife twisting deeper into my heart, carving away any lingering hope that Axel might have redemption.

Somewhere in the darkness above, my mate—my betrayer—was claiming another woman while I listened helplessly below.

And in that moment, something inside me hardened. If I survived this, there would be no forgiveness. No mercy.

Only vengeance.